Tipping Point
by mcmachine
Summary: April just wants to keep her head down. Life doesn't make that easy. Neither does Jackson. For NaNoWriMo 2019.


**APRIL**

_**PRESENT**_

"I've never seen anything like this," Dr. Hunt said, peering closer at the wound.

The copious bleeding had finally come to a stop, ghastly colors forming from the bruising and pus that had begun to form with the bite. Without a bandage on, the muscle was clearly visible, a bit of bone peeking out. It's deep – deeper than it should have been. The fact that there's still a foot attached beneath, receiving blood and nerve signals, it is nothing short of a miracle.

But it feels significantly less miraculous knowing that it was _my_ foot, every single twist or readjustment sending pain radiating away from the wound. Morphine had been given twenty minutes ago. It didn't seem to make much of a difference.

"You know, maybe that kind of comment is better off not being said in front of me," I grimaced.

"Right, sorry," the nervous redhead apologized quickly, beginning to rebandage my leg and cover it up. "We're going to get it stitched up, and we're going to get you started on the anti-rabies medication as well as make sure that you're up to date on your tetanus shot. Other than that, taking care of it should be pretty straightforward. The nurse will go over the specific details of keeping the wound clean and dry." His gloves snapped loudly as they came off his wrists, adding a final statement before walking away. "Let me know if you have any questions."

"Hard to do when you do that…" I remarked under my breath, giving a little shake of my head. The bite is less intimidating with it covered up, but no amount of bandages could shake the uneasiness that had already settled deep inside my core. A bite like that could have killed me. Should have, maybe. It was hard to say.

I had gotten lucky.

By the time that the nurse got to me, I was already ready to get out of there – I wasn't worried about rabies or tetanus shots. It was a nasty bite, already infected, but that was where the story began and ended. At least, that was how it needed to be.

_**THE NIGHT BEFORE**_

The full moon had barely begun to kiss the night sky, hanging near the horizon as she waited her turn. October's beginning had brought cooler nights once dusk settled in, but that didn't stop people from continuing about their business – parties and pub crawls dragging people out. Club Contour was at the turning point for the night: regulars who came for the atmosphere and bar food heading out, as partiers and dancers began to make their way inside. That was the time of night that I preferred – lively, but not rowdy.

"Hey, ging!" The canter of the man's voice is already slurred. Someone had been pregaming.

Keeping my head down, I do my best to ignore it. It's annoying. Unfortunately, it also seemed to be the price of daring to be a female alone in the city.

"C'mon, baby! I just want to be friends." He continued.

"Yeah, he's a nice guy. Let 'em talk to you," another chimed in.

A deep breath is sucked in through my nose, nighttime aroma hitting hard. I put on a fake smile, the kind that apparently _both_ of them were going to be too drunk to see through.

"There we go!" The first guy continued.

"Damn, she's fine," the second whistled lowly.

"What's your name?"

"April." I finally spoke, daring to take a step closer to them.

The second man, shorter and burlier than the first, looked to be a little soberer than his compadre – apparently, he was just an asshole. But the first, it was clear he'd already had more than enough to drink. His swagger was tilted, eyes glossy. He didn't need to be out like this.

"April…" he clucked his tongue. "I'm Joseph," the first man finally labeled himself. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing out here all alone?"

Joseph was out of his. But his friend's gaze was different: he had shifted, focused as I came closer to him. "Joseph, c'mon," he muttered, elbowing his friend harshly. "I gotta get home. You know that. I needed to half an hour ago but you wouldn't stop taking shots."

"You should probably listen to your friend," I offered up.

"Nah, nah man," he shook his head, taking a step closer to me. "Look at her! She's gorgeous. You want in on this?"

"Joseph, _shut up_." This time when he hit his friend, it's harder. "Seriously. We're going home, now. Tonight's not the night. I gotta get home and you don't want to mess with her. Let's go."

"Scott, come _on_," Joseph whined, his attention momentarily taken away from me. I took another deep breath. "Is it really that big of a deal for you to get home? It's not even ten. Stay out. Live a little."

A moment later, it hits me.

"Listen to him," I said as I took a step back, my eyes set on Scott. "Get out of here. Now."

_**PRESENT**_

They give me a pair of crutches to get back to my apartment with, insisting that I get someone to come pick me up. It takes a little charming to get my way.

As much as I don't want the crutches, it was nice to take the weight off my foot. Medication had barely made any kind of dent in the way that pain shot up through me every time I put weight on it. It looked like there was going to be a little more recovery time with all of this than what I wanted there to be. Hopefully, it would only need a few more days. The half an hour it took to get home from the hospital already felt like more than enough.

Work would have to be put on hold. I had more than enough sick days built up, given that I had never taken one in the ten years that I've worked as a pathologist. The dead aren't impatient. Just the living.

Settling into the idea of pulling up Netflix and burying myself underneath a thick blanket, there's no chance to get settled into the couch cushions before there's a loud knock on the apartment door. "Darn it," I breathed out, flipping off the blankets and grabbing the crutches to hobble back over to the door.

Swinging the door open, I nearly throw myself off balance, catching myself on the knob. Smooth.

"Hi," I breathed out, trying to straighten up. "Sorry, I wasn't exactly expecting any visitors."

"My apologies, ma'am," he stated smoothly. There's the slightest Southern drawl to his words – but he hardly looks like any kind of country bum. Skin like a dark honey, freckles scattered across his cheekbones, a striking set of blue eyes, he looked like something stepping out of a high fashion magazine. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"It's… not a problem." Blinking twice, I break my stare, making more reasonable eye contact. "Can I help you with something?"

"You're April Kepner, correct?" He questioned. I nodded my head. "My name is Jackson Avery, I work with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Services. I hear that you've suffered from a… unique animal bite recently."

"I don't know if it's that big of a deal," I stated uneasily, shifting slightly on my crutches.

"Do you mind if I come in? You look like you'd be more comfortable sitting down." He offered. It seemed genuine enough.

"Sure."

Moving backward so that I could open the door wider without nearly falling over again, I let him into the apartment and shut the door behind him. Sinking back down onto the couch where I can elevate my leg again does feel heavenly compared to trying to stand up at the door with the crutches digging into my armpits, even if it's odd to have this guy in here. Fish and Wildlife Services? Really? That didn't seem like the type of agency that would do housecalls. Maybe it was because I'd been discharged so quickly.

"I'd offer to get you something to drink, but," I motioned to my propped up leg, fortunately not gruesome with a pair of sweatpants now covering the bandage.

"It's fine," he shook his head, dismissing the idea.

"What exactly does the Fish and Wildlife Services do?" It was the most polite way I could think to ask him why he was here.

"Well, there's a pretty broad range of work," he began. "But today, I'm just here to ask you a few questions about the incident around that bite of yours. We do get very concerned with something like this, especially when it's of an… unusual behavior."

My brows furrowed. "What do you mean by unusual?"

"Well, according to the police report, you didn't provoke the animal or see it coming – is that correct?" Jackson asked. I swallowed thickly before giving another nod of my head. "That's something we'd consider unusual. And I've also been told that the bite itself isn't something that presented normally. I was wondering if I could take a look at it."

"You're not a doctor," I commented. "Why do you want to see it?"

"No, I'm not," he agreed. "But I do see a lot of animal bites."

There was no need for any of this. The longer I sat here, the antsier that it was making me – a difficult position to be in considering that I couldn't exactly move around nearly as much as I wanted to be. "If you think it'll help…" I mumbled.

"Yes, I do. I wouldn't ask otherwise," he said.

I stared at him for a moment longer. This was a bad idea. I could feel it in my gut. There was something about him that I couldn't pinpoint, something that went beyond what little information he had given me about himself. But most people… I think they would have just gone with it. He was some kind of government employee. In my position, there was no reason for me to do anything but that. Single woman, attacked by some kind of animal. I'd seek out this type of thing.

"Sure," I agreed. Stretching forward, I pulled up the end of my sweatpants to my knee. The most recent bandage had already begun to turn an ugly shade of purple on the outside and a quiet sigh passed through my lips. Pulling back the edges of the bandage to reveal it, it was no less ugly than it had been before.

"Wow," he breathed out.

"Yeah." My jaw clenched together. "Not exactly pretty. But I'm sure you've seen plenty like this before, right?" Normalize it. Wildlife, bites, it had to go together.

"Very rarely," Jackson answered, leaning forward to get a better look at it. My eyes rolled back in my head for a moment before he spoke again. "And no, it's definitely not a normal bite."

"So you have seen it before," I countered.

"Yeah."

I paused for a moment, waiting for him to say more about it. The clenching in my gut had come to a peak with its tightness, enough that for just a moment, I feel utterly nauseous with the words that might come out of his mouth. The fact that I was in the condition that I was in. If he knew what this was, if he had seen something like it before, and he was now seeing what it was doing to my leg… then it already seemed like he knew way more than I would have ever wanted him to know. It meant that he needed to leave, right now.

"What do you think it is, then?" I finally break the silence when he doesn't.

"Looks like a particular kind of wolf," he answered. "Miss Kepner, what exactly can you tell me about the night that you were attacked? What do you remember about it?"

"It's Dr. Kepner," I corrected. "And everything that I remember is in the police report."

"I'm sorry, I know that this must be very difficult for you." My irritation managed to subside for a moment – his voice is too smooth, and I'm sure that he knew it. "It looks like you could use a new bandage on this. I could rebandage it for you, if you'd like. Just tell me where the stuff is."

He's trying to compensate. I'll let him.

"It's right over there," I pointed it out.

It doesn't take much to actually rebandage the wound, but he was more careful about it than what I expected him to be. He knew what kind of bite it was, which meant… no, I didn't want to have to think about what it meant for me and what it meant for him. The issue was too black and white, and I was trying to exist in a gray that the world didn't want to exist. But his hands, despite the fact that I could feel his fingers were calloused, were gentle. It was a kind touch. Not the kind of touch that it should have been. It was unsettling and intriguing.

"There you are…" he said as he pulled down the leg of my sweatpant, smoothing the material back out.

"Thanks," I smiled genuinely. "I appreciate it. I know you didn't have to do that."

"I don't mind." His smile is sweet, charming. He must be good with most people. "Admittedly, most of this job isn't exactly spent around other people." I'm sure it wasn't.

"Well, I guess we have that in common. Sort of." I chuckled.

"What do you do for a living?" Jackson asked.

"I'm a pathologist at the hospital. Lots of people, just not exactly the living type," I gave a little shrug of my shoulders.

"Wow," he breathed out. "You must see a lot then."

I nodded my head, giving a glance at the front door. It felt rude to ask him to leave, but having him here wasn't sitting right with me, either. "I do," I agreed. "But at least I don't have to worry about losing patients."

"Still.." he murmured, staring at me for a moment longer. He could see through me. I knew he could. "Anyway," he cleared his throat. "I should probably get going. I'm sorry for taking up your time."

As he stood up, I grabbed my crutches again to walk him to do the door. "No need to apologize," I remarked. "You're just doing your job, right?" Whatever that really was. Jackson may have been deceptively beautiful and charming, but there was no way that he just worked for the Fish and Wildlife Services. From the way that he had seen that bite, he recognized it without being too reactive… he knew exactly what it actually came from. If my suspicions were correct, he knew exactly what he was going to do about it, too.

"Right." But the smile that he gave me was still dazzling, even with suspicions in place. "And if you remember anything more about that night, or just want to talk about it – just give me a call, okay?" As he spoke, he handed over a card to me. His name and number were written in pen, not an official card.

"Okay," I agreed, flashing another smile. "It was nice to meet you, Jackson."

"Nice to meet you too, April."

When the front door of my house shuts, I let out a breath of relief. The last thing I needed was one of his kind getting up in my business. That only ever ended one way. It was a way that I didn't want to get involved with.

Abandoning my crutches again as I sank down onto the couch and pulled the knitted blanket over my legs, I turned up the volume on my television to try and drown out all of the thoughts in my head. Shutting my eyes, a loud sigh finally came out, the one I had been holding onto during the conversation. Maybe I could at least get some sleep.

_**THE NIGHT BEFORE**_

"What, do you two know each other or something?" Joseph laughed obnoxiously.

"No," the two of us answered in unison.

"We're just a little more sober than you are," I continued. "You really want to listen to your friend."

The smell of wet dog was now hanging heavily in the air. Tonight's turn of events couldn't have gone more differently from what I have hoped. It was supposed to be an easy night out, not having to worry about anything, certainly not this.

Joseph was the only one who couldn't pick up on it – but I was almost certain that Scott could recognize it just as much as I could. He was an asshole, and an unlucky one, at that. Hairs on the back of my neck were now completely risen, unable to talk myself back from the edge. Scott's eyes were dark, alert. He couldn't have looked more different from his friend. Somehow, at the moment and against all odds, he and I were the ones on the same page.

Scott grimaced suddenly, shifting from side to side and gripping tightly onto Joseph's arm. "We gotta go, man, I'm not gonna make it back. Get out of here." His voice was strained.

"Come on," Joseph whined. As he tried to get out of his friend's grips, he misses his step – stumbling and falling back onto his ass. He groaned loudly, rocking for a moment and holding his hands up. The metallic glisten of blood had already stained his palms.

"I gotta get out of here," Scott began backing up, but he froze again as he looked at me. "_Shit_."

"Go." I stared back at Scott. There was a flash of something dangerous in his eye and I knew exactly where it was coming from. The last thing that I should have seen tonight. I should have stayed home.

I can hear the growl before I can see or feel it coming.

_**PRESENT**_

Sunset had painted pink and purple across the horizon by the time that I woke up haphazardly strewn across the living room couch, one stray shutter left open and allowing in what was left of daylight. Sleeping the entire day came with ease, given that last night and this morning had kept me up beyond what I usually planned for. The card with Jackson's name and number on it was still sitting on top of the coffee table.

My back popped as I stretched out with my arms overhead, twisting in each direction for the full effect. I haven't slept on this couch in – well, never for more than a nap. It's not entirely uncomfortable, but I'm stiff.

Leaning forward, I pulled back up the pant leg and peeked under to peel off the bandage that Jackson had applied hours ago. The pus was already gone. Still, the wound was a grotesque shade of purple that didn't quite belong on any living being, and moving around my foot in any kind of direction pulled at the damaged muscle in a way that reminded me of how real the pain and wound were. The skin around it had become paler than my already ghost-like pallor. I had already gotten off relatively easy with this, but it wouldn't be getting any easier than this.

Going out on a full moon had been a mistake. Werewolf bites were deadly, or worse. For humans, at least. This was one of the rare moments in my life to be grateful I wasn't one.

Not bothering with the crutches again, I heaved myself off of the couch and made my way toward the kitchen. I needed to eat. I couldn't stare myself, not when I needed to try and get this wound healed so I could go back to some semblance of a normal life. Normal required routine. Go to work, the occasional social event, keep a smile on my face and let none be the wiser.

But what was I going to do about that nosy supernatural hunter, Jackson?

There was no other explanation for what he could be – there were few of them, but they were the only kind of humans that would know what a werewolf bite looked like. He'd probably seen it on dead bodies before. I was probably the first one that he hadn't seen attached to a corpse, which meant that I needed to keep him off my trail. I didn't know how to do that.

Opening up the refrigerator door, there's a stash in what was supposed to be a fruit drawer. None of it was exactly fresh, but at this point, it didn't seem like it mattered much as long as I had something in my system. Twisting off the cap, I drink it down quickly.

Once I'm satisfied, I toss the empty bag in the trash can. There's a decorative mirror placed on the living room wall, and I catch a glimpse of my own reflection.

Blood stained across my lips, the contrast seeming to make my skin look paler than it already was. I took a step closer to my reflection. Contrary to popular belief and the occasional misguided book or movie, vampires do see their own reflection in the mirror. I can see with extraordinary detail, every little freckle and pore, blood filling in the tiny lines on my lips. I'd never understood where that particular rumor had come from. That, and garlic. Food would have been boring without it.

I wondered if the hunter who had come by earlier knew that.

Maybe. He'd been able to keep his cool pretty well, looking at the werewolf bite on my leg, knowing that I had to be something other than human to have received that and still be in otherwise decent condition.

Limping back over to the table, I picked up the card with his name and number on it. _Jackson Avery_. I wondered if that was even his real name. Hunters were notorious for having all kinds of fake aliases as they moved about their business and tried to keep their heads down. I'd never actually met one before. Maybe it was because I was still young or I just knew how to keep off the radar – I'd gotten lucky in many ways as a doctor, it made it easier to be a vampire without actually having to kill anyone. There was no reason he should have been on my trail, but this bite had exposed me. There was no getting around that.

"Jackson…" His name is a sigh. "What am I going to do about you?"


End file.
